


And Now You're Mine

by Tarash



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alpha Sherlock, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Auction, Bad Bondage, Bottom John, Collars, Don't expect great worldbuilding or anything it's all about the kink, Enemas, Handcuffs, Id Fic, M/M, No seriously Sherlock is a massive asshole, Not really safe sane or consensual, Omega John, Top Sherlock, dirtybadwrong, sherlock is a dick, toplock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-22
Updated: 2015-05-30
Packaged: 2018-03-25 06:17:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,189
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3800023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tarash/pseuds/Tarash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Alpha Sherlock buys Omega John at an auction. While initially interested in the case because Moriarty is supposedly pulling the strings behind the auction, Sherlock soon finds himself more intrigued by the stubborn Omega he has bought.</p><p>With John having been on suppressors so long and now off them, how long before he gives in and begs Sherlock to take him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> No explicitness in this chapter.

“Just go there undercover as a buyer, Sherlock. Come on, you’re an unmated Alpha,” Lestrade argued. “You don’t even need to buy any of the Omegas.”

“Don’t you have anything more interesting than some illicit Omega auction?” Sherlock asked him, looking out the window. “They’re terribly dull and often the Omegas aren’t even much to look at.”

“We’ve found some clues that Moriarty may be pulling the strings behind the auction.”

Sherlock’s eyes snapped up to meet Lestrade’s. “You found a clue?” he drawled. “Congratulations.”

Lestrade glared at him. “Shut up.”

Sherlock snorted. “Email me the file, I’ll determine for myself whether or not Moriarty is involved. You’ll have my answer in an hour.”

“But the file is enormous, there’s dozens of documents, pages long,” Lestrade protested. “Please, that auction is tonight, Sherlock, I –”

How he hated the way Lestrade underestimated him. “Send me the file,” he repeated, “and you’ll have my answer in an hour. Now leave, Mrs. Hudson will show you out.”

Five minutes later, he got the email from Scotland Yard. Lestrade was getting tardy, Sherlock would have to reprimand him.

As it turned out, he didn’t need an hour to determine whether or not Moriarty was involved, fifteen minutes was enough.

_I will be at the auction. – SH_

_Don’t you need to know where it is?_ Lestrade texted back.

Sherlock glanced down at his phone, and shook his head. Hadn’t Lestrade realised the obvious pattern of where and when the auctions were held? Honestly, how had the man managed to become D.I.?

To put the man out of his misery, Sherlock texted him back that he knew exactly where and when it was, adding the details. Lestrade was suitably impressed as always, but the man’s baffled _How the hell did you manage that???_ didn’t amuse him like it usually did.

He was, he had to admit to himself, getting bored. A night out to an Omega auction on itself wouldn’t have been enough to tempt him normally, and he had been about to inform Lestrade that he had plenty of unmated Alphas to send instead, but well, Moriarty.

It was unlikely that the man himself would be there tonight, but one or more of his minions would be, and Sherlock would find some clue he could toss to Lestrade while Sherlock kept the more interesting ones to himself. Lestrade would only make a mess of taking down Moriarty, and Sherlock enjoyed the hunt and the challenge.

*

The auction was at a suitably unused and non-descript warehouse, but on the inside it was re-furnished to look more like an old-fashioned gentleman’s club. The auction’s clientele, all well-off Alphas from the upper classes, wouldn’t want to sit in a cold warehouse without comfortable chairs to sit on, along with some brandy and possibly a cigar should they so choose.

Some other Alphas he knew vaguely from soirées his parents had hosted, and if they seemed surprised by his presence, they hid it, of course. He was actually half-surprised Mycroft wasn’t here, under the guise of keeping tabs on Moriarty as well.

He accepted a glass of brandy from an Omega waiter, and wandered around the room. He had been handed a programme with a listing of the Omegas on sale. A dozen, five men and seven women, all in their late teens or early twenties, except for one man who was in his late twenties. Rather old for an unmated Omega, which piqued Sherlock’s interest. Item 11 was also listed as needing a strong, disciplined hand, meaning he was absolutely unmanageable and unwilling to submit.

While Sherlock wasn’t there to actually buy an Omega, he had to admit that Item 11 and the surly glare he had in the photograph accompanying his description, had him tempted. It had been a while since he had knotted an Omega, and he didn’t want one who would submit happily and roll over to be fucked. Some Alphas liked that, but Sherlock needed to conquer, to make the Omega submit to him. It was more fun that way.

He also kept an eye on the waiters and waitresses, but they seemed to belong to a perfectly reputable catering company. During the first items, Sherlock watched the auction master. From the way he dressed, spoke and led the auction, it was obvious the man used to work for Sotheby’s and had fallen on harder times. Sherlock would tell Lestrade about him, even he could figure out the identity of the auction master based on Sherlock’s information.

If he wanted useful information himself, he would have to get behind the stage and see who was running things there. The auction master and the burly men leading the Omegas on the stage were clearly hired help, but there had to be someone from Moriarty’s circle who was in charge.

He sighed, watching as Item 6, a sweet-looking girl 22 years old, was bought by an Alpha woman in her forties. If he wanted to stay behind and get behind the stage, he would have to buy an Omega as well. Whoever dealt with the money, was most likely part of Moriarty’s circle for now. The damned man seemed to change minions and underlings every month or so. Clever, of course, but most irritating.

He wasn’t interested in any Omega but Item 11, and he was pleased to see that, when Item 11 was led up to the stage, the man looked exactly as annoyed as in the photograph. The other Omegas had looked scared or docile, but not Item 11. And his scent was positively intoxicating, he clearly hadn’t been knotted in a while. The Omega had to be positively gagging for it. Mmm, he would be fun to take home…

“Item 11, well, he has tried to attack two of his handlers tonight, ladies and gentlemen, I thought it only fair to warn you. Item 11 is 29 and has served in the Army for several years and –”

This announcement led to some shocked murmurs amongst the Alphas. Omegas were forbidden from joining the army. While their subservient nature made them perfect obedient soldiers, the risk of them being captured and spilling secrets was too high.

Sherlock’s interest in Item 11 only rose. A former soldier, how very marvellous. One glance around the room told him he wouldn’t have much competition for this Omega.

And indeed, Sherlock bought him for a pittance. Afterwards, he asked Item 11’s handler to put him back in his cage while he dealt with the money. He barely glanced at Item 11 as he passed him by, but was pleased by the glare his Omega threw him.

Money exchanged hands quickly, and Sherlock mentally noted all the distinguishing features of the man and the safe the money was stored in. The safe was new and very secure, and not easy to acquire. It was a lead worth following, and undoubtedly one of the minions would mention to Moriarty that Sherlock had been here. He suspected Moriarty enjoyed their cat-and-mouse game as much as he did, and he fully expected to hear from Moriarty in the next few days. It would confirm his involvement.

He went up to the security man in charge of the Omegas. “I’ll take Item 11 home now,” he announced, and waited for his Omega to be handed to him.

When Item 11 was brought to him, his hands were cuffed behind his back, there was a ball gag tied securely around his head and the collar around his neck was an inch thick with two clasps to secure it. Sherlock raised an eyebrow when the leash was handed to him. “Is that really necessary?” he asked, gesturing at Item 11.

The man snorted. “He’s tried to bite three of my crew tonight, Sir, so yes, it is necessary. Between you and me, I’m glad to be rid of him.” His smirk widened. “And we don’t accept returns.”

“All any Omega needs is discipline and a firm hand,” Sherlock said, still not looking at Item 11, who was fuming quietly. “I’ll have him obeying me and begging for my knot within a week.”

“I admire your confidence, Sir. We can arrange a taxi for you and your Omega if you want to travel more discretely?”

Sherlock actually laughed. The day he accepted a taxi from anyone under Moriarty’s thumb was the day he had given up on life. “No, no thank you. I think Item 11 and I will walk. He looks like he could use some fresh air.”

Item 11’s eyes widened. He was no doubt acutely aware of the humiliation of having to walk the street like this. Omegas being led in collars and leashes were normal, and the ball gag or handcuffs weren’t unusual either for an Omega who had been disobedient, but Alphas rarely used both.

“Try to keep up with me, 11,” he said to the Omega, then gave a tug on the leash and left. Item 11 made some protesting noises, but was forced to follow.

Sherlock kept up the pace, it was a long enough walk back to Baker Street, and it would do the Omega good. He had been locked up a cage that was too small for days at least, so he was probably relieved to be stretching his legs.

But the Omega kept trying to stop, and made protesting noises all the time, and halfway through Sherlock was tempted to throw him in the Thames. “Oh, be quiet, 11,” he snapped. “It’s not so far now. You should enjoy being outside, as I don’t plan on letting you out at all in the next few weeks.” New Omegas had to be kept in the house so they could get used to their new surroundings before they could be trusted to be let outside and return safely.

It required quite some pulling on the leash to keep the Omega’s tempo up, and Sherlock thought that at least that would leave some nice marks on his neck afterwards.

By the time they had reached 221b, the Omega was red-faced and panting, clearly relieved that they had reached Sherlock’s home.

Once inside, Sherlock first removed ball gag.

“I don’t know who you are, but if you don’t let me go this instant I will – fmpgh!”

Sherlock stuffed the ball gag back in. “You do not get to make demands of me, 11.”

Item 11 glared at him, but remained quiet, so Sherlock pulled the ball gag out again.

“My name is John Watson, not 11,” the Omega said.

Sherlock shrugged. “I’ll keep calling you 11, but thanks for the information.” He sat down, and watched the Omega. The man remained where he was, his eyes darting around the room before settling on Sherlock again. “If you’re wondering which item in the room is heavy enough for you to life up and bash me over the head with, I should warn you I am close friends with Scotland Yard and they would find you almost immediately,” Sherlock informed him.

“You’re an undercover police officer?” Item 11 asked, and seemed to relax. “Oh, thank God for that.”

Sherlock let out a laugh. “Oh no, no, nothing like that. I’m a consultant to them on occasion. And on this occasion, they did ask for my help to catch the person behind these auctions, and I will pass relevant information onto them, but 11, I bought you and I intend to keep you.”

The Omega stared at him in disbelief. “But Omega auctions are illegal,” he spluttered.

Sherlock shrugged. “Many things are, 11. Like joining the army when you’re an Omega. How did you manage that?”

11 shook his head. “I’m not telling you that, it’s none of your business.”

“You’re my Omega, everything you do is my business. But if you’re unwilling to talk I suppose I can tie your leash to the ceiling lamp and force you stand through the night. You clearly haven’t been sleeping well since your imprisonment. Wouldn’t sleeping on the floor be so much nicer, 11?” Sherlock offered.

“I’m not telling you anything,” 11 replied.

“Pity.” Sherlock sighed and stood up to put the ball gag back in 11’s mouth, and then looped the leash around the ceiling lamp. He gave the Omega just enough space to stand directly under it. “If you try to pull yourself free and bring the lamp down, Mrs. Hudson will be most displeased,” he told 11, then left him alone to go to bed.

*

The next day, Sherlock came out of bed at noon, and found his new Omega standing where he left him, his eyes bloodshot and face pale. “There, there,” he said quietly, untangling the leash and removing the ball gag. He pulled the Omega gently over to stand next to the chair while Sherlock sat down. “Now, 11, are you willing to talk.”

“Water, please,” he managed. “Or the toilet, I don’t care.”

Ugh, he was hardly going to get anything out of him until his basic needs were met. Sherlock unclipped the leash, opened the Omega’s belt and pulled his trousers and boxers down. His cock was soft and pale, nestled amongst light brown curls.

“What the hell, get off me,” the Omega said, stepping away from Sherlock and glaring at him.

“Well, I’m hardly going to uncuff you,” Sherlock replied. “Or let you piss your pants. Now take care of that, quickly.”

11 grumbled under his breath as he made his way to the bathroom, and it was a while before he returned, trying to hold up his trousers at the back, his face flushed with embarrassment.

Sherlock could barely stop himself from smiling. “Now, if you want me to do up your trousers, you’ll have to tell me how you managed to get into the army.”

11 stared at him, his mouth open and his face flushing further. “What? No, you can’t do that, what if – what if Mrs. Hudson comes in? Is she your maid or cleaning lady?”

“Landlady, and she knows not to come in,” Sherlock explained. “She does leave breakfast outside the door. Now start talking, 11.”

11 clenched his jaw in irritation, and Sherlock waited in silence. When the man didn’t talk, he sighed, got up to retrieve his breakfast, then sat down with his scrambled eggs, bacon and cup of tea. 11 could barely keep his eyes off the food, and Sherlock was certain the man was salivating.

“I’m guessing you weren’t fed well either. No matter, Mrs. Hudson is a wonderful chef and I’m sure she’d love to make you a nice shepherd’s pie if that’s what you want.” He heard a tiny moan at the mention of shepherd’s pie, and he smiled at himself.

“I was on suppressors,” 11 said, sounding pained. “I had some contacts in Europe, they sent them to me. Enough to keep me going until I was sent abroad and once out of Britain it was easier to acquire suppressors through the locals.”

“Until you got shot,” Sherlock said, nodding to himself. Suppressors for Omegas were illegal in Britain, which made them very popular amongst smugglers. “In your leg.”

“How did you –”

“Oh, that’s obvious, 11. Now, let me guess, you were hospitalised briefly until you were well enough to travel, then sent back to recuperate. Once here, you were unable to get a hold of your suppressors or your old contacts, and you ran out. In your quest to get hold of some suppressors or people who had contacts in Europe, you entered the shady underbelly of London and were captured by the wonderful people who sold you to me,” Sherlock explained, eating more of his eggs and bacon.

“That’s… how did you do that?” 11 asked, sounding impressed.

“It’s easy if you pay attention to people,” Sherlock replied, then looked up at him. “Now, I doubt your parents would’ve consented to you joining the army, so you would’ve been 18 or older when you joined. In order to mask your Omega status, you would’ve had to be on suppressors for at least a year. At the auction, I was told they were glad to be rid of you, so you were clearly put up for auction once before, about a month ago. Omegas go into heat once a month, but you obviously aren’t in heat and haven’t been in heat while captured. It is known that Omegas who stop taking suppressors have irregular heat cycles for a while.” Sherlock tilted his head. “You must’ve been on suppressors for twelve years, so your cycle will be irregular for a while. I wonder if my constant presence as an Alpha will make your heat cycle regular faster than it otherwise would.”

11 opened and then closed his mouth. “Could you not treat me like a science experiment?”

“How could I not?” Sherlock asked, genuinely surprised. “You’re the first Omega I’ve met who has been on suppressors this long.” Having remembered his promise to 11, he quickly did up his trousers again. “And during your time in the army, you wouldn’t have let anyone knot you for risk of being found out. A regular fuck, perhaps, but you haven’t been used and filled properly in a while, 11. I must admit, I am curious to see how desperate you will become once you go into heat.”

11’s cheeks flushed again. “I won’t – I am not – I’m not desperate! I’m not gonna beg for anything.”

He had heard that from stubborn Omegas before. “We’ll see, 11. I will uncuff you and remove the ball gag, and you can sleep in the spare bedroom. You’ll have to clean it first. You will stay inside. I’ll get a longer leash so you have some room to move around the flat. Understood?”

11’s jaw clenched again. “Understood.”

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

Over the next few days, Sherlock imposed a regular daily rhythm on 11. 11 was allowed to have breakfast, lunch and dinner only at set times. Snacks were reserved only for good behaviour, which meant 11 never got any. 11 was allowed to use the toilet and bathroom as much as he felt necessary.

Sherlock didn’t take 11 with him to any crime scenes, figuring the Omega would only be a nuisance and get in the way. Lestrade argued that Sherlock couldn’t keep him, but Sherlock dismissed him easily. He argued that he was keeping 11 around in case he was useful for the underground auction case. Even Lestrade could figure out that was a lie, but couldn’t act on it.

But Sherlock wasn’t cruel, he was planning on taking 11 out for regular walks once he had settled in. Once every other day, or so. 11 complained about having to stay inside all day, but Sherlock reminded him that he had brought that on himself by being surly and disobedient.

“Honestly, you won’t even let me clean you properly,” Sherlock muttered.

11’s face turned an angry and embarrassed red. “I can wash myself! I have washed myself since I was old enough to do so!”

Sherlock tsk’ed. “But that was before you had an Alpha. It is my duty to take care of you, 11. And I will.”

“You can take care of me by giving me a better pillow,” 11 grumbled.

Sherlock narrowed his eyes at him. “Perhaps I was too lenient. I can remove the bed, if that’s what you want.”

11 glared at him. “The bed is fine.”

“Now sit by my chair on your knees like a good Omega.” Sherlock snapped his fingers, pointing at the carpet.

“What? No!” 11 shook his head and walked into the guest room. His leash was long enough to let him do.

“No food for you tomorrow, then!” Sherlock called after him. “Or the day after.” He would break this stubborn Omega soon enough.

*

11 lasted five days without food, and Sherlock was sure he only gave in because Sherlock had been tempting him with Mrs. Hudson’s dishes that entire time.

“Kneel by the chair,” Sherlock said, cutting off a bit of pie and holding up a spoon.

11 knelt, turning up his face. “Just give me some cutlery, I’ll do it myself.”

“Nonsense, I’ll feed you. Open your mouth.”

11 was clearly torn between getting up again and opening his mouth. Hunger won, and he opened his mouth, letting Sherlock feed him the rest of the chicken pie.

“Good boy,” he said, patting 11 on the head, and stroking his hair. It was softer than he had expected. “Now, will you finally let me wash you? You must be filthy in the harder to reach places.” Not to mention that 11 had to be in need of an enema. It was important for them to receive one at least once a month, to make sure the self-lubricating glands functioned properly. And from the way 11 had been acting, Sherlock wondered if he had ever received one. He certainly wouldn’t have got one in the army.

“I am not filthy,” 11 snapped.

Sherlock nodded. “Then you will not need water at all.” He would give it a day at the most.

*

The next evening, he had 11 standing in the bathtub, completely naked with his wrists cuffed to the shower curtain rail. Sherlock still had his doubts about 11 being able to stay still enough to cooperate with the enema.

Sherlock had stripped down to his underwear, making sure to brush his own bare skin against 11's. It was something that soothed Omegas in stressful situations, reminding them that their Alpha was right there. He ran the washcloth up and down 11’s chest. “See, this isn’t so bad, is it?”

“It’s nothing I can’t do myself,” 11 muttered.

The warm water from the showerhead washed the soap away. Sherlock made sure to gently wash every bit of skin of 11 he could reach, especially his genitals. 11 gasped and tried to wriggle away, but firmly squeezing his soft cock put a stop to that. “None of that,” he told 11, who had tilted his head to catch some water from the showerhead. “Behave, or this is all the water you’re getting for now.”

He then spread 11’s cheeks with one hand, sliding the washcloth in between with the other. It was important for 11 to be clean here before using the enema on him. He lubricated 11 before carefully inserting the nozzle. “There, that’s not so bad, is it?”

11 merely grunted, his body tense.

Sherlock shrugged, holding the tube and watching the special solution flow inside of 11. He had bought the best Omega solution for 11, one that wouldn’t disrupt the balance of natural bacteria but still clean his self-lubrication glands. As more and more water flowed into 11, the Omega began to grunt as his stomach grew more and more bloated.

“That’s enough,” he gasped, trying to wriggle forward.

Exactly as expected. He put one hand on 11’s stomach, carefully pushing him back. 11 grunted in pain at the pressure, and stayed in place. “Three litres should be enough. I have a plug so you can keep it inside of you for a bit. Honestly, if you’ve never had an enema it’s a good thing you’re mine now.”

11 made a protesting noise. “I don’t need an enema! And I’m not yours.”

“Hush.” Sherlock was aware that some Omegas insisted that enemas weren’t necessarily and that their glands stayed perfectly healthy without one, but what did they know? “I thought we’d been over this, 11. I bought you. I own you.” The last of the solution had entered 11’s body. “Now keep it inside of you until I get the plug, or the consequences will be dire.”

He removed the nozzle carefully, pleased 11 did as he’d been told. Sherlock took the butt plug from the bathroom counter, and slowly inserted it. “There, you can relax a little now,” he told 11. The Omega should be grateful, plenty of Alphas made their Omegas hold it in without the aid of a plug. “Fifteen minutes should do it.”

He stepped out of the bathtub, all the better to observe 11’s reactions to the solution. As expected, he grunted in pain from the cramps, and his stomach was bloated. Next time would be much easier for 11, Sherlock figured.

Once the fifteen minutes were up, he pulled the plug out of John’s arse, pulling up his nose at the filth that streamed out of him. “Ugh, you’re cleaning the bath after this,” he replied. Some of it splattered onto John’s calves. “And yourself.” He would watch to make sure 11 did it properly.

11 groaned with relief as he grew emptier. “Oh, that’s better.”

Sherlock smiled. “I’m glad you think so. We’ll do this every month, make sure your glands stay healthy.”

11 just groaned again, but managed to glare at Sherlock anyway.

The Omega would change his mind soon enough, after realising that an enema really was better for his self-lubricating glands.

*

Two weeks later, Sherlock noticed a change coming over 11. He was still stubborn and argued with Sherlock’s commands, but once he was kneeling by Sherlock’s feet next to the chair or standing in the bathtub to be washed, he leaned into Sherlock’s touch. Oh, it was subtle, but Sherlock noticed it. He filed it away as a possible symptom of oncoming heat.

The next day, Sherlock was certain 11’s heat was close. 11 was curled up on the rug, a fine sheen of sweat covering his face and the part of his stomach exposed by his tossing and writhing on the rug. He was flushed all over, his erection tenting his trousers.

Sherlock had been watching him for an hour now, making notes and observations. 11 made a good subject. The pangs of arousal were coming in waves, lasting about two hours before they faded and 11 was back to his usual grumpy self for about eight hours. This was the second time Sherlock had seen 11 like this, and he hoped there would be a third.

These brief flushes of arousal were a normal part of the regular Omega heat cycle, although usually the arousal lasted for fifteen minutes or so before receding. It was a sign that heat would be upon them in less than twenty four hours. Doctors called it Pre-Heat Syndrome, its exact function was still unknown. Sherlock thought it was a way to prepare the Omega body for the toils of heat, a warm-up of sorts.

He smirked at his own little joke. A warm-up was certainly what it was. He knelt down by 11’s side, touching the Omega’s forehead with the back of his palm. “You’ve still got a fever,” he said, writing this down.

11 gasped at the brief touch, rolling to grab Sherlock’s leg. “Please,” he muttered. “Please!”

Sherlock looked down at the flustered Omega. “Please, what?” he asked. 11 hadn’t begged him for a fuck yet, would that change now?

11 swallowed hard, then groaned softly. “Make it stop.”

There was only one way to make it stop, but until the other man begged, Sherlock would do no such thing. “There’s nothing I can do, not until you ask me nicely,” he said, pushing 11 away.

11 whined, then rolled onto his stomach. He had done that that morning too, trying to rub himself and his sensitive cock against the floor in an attempt to get off. It was as useless as having a wank. The only thing that would make 11 come was the touch of an Alpha.

“Oh – oh God!” 11 groaned, as he kept humping the carpet before rolling onto his back. He was panting as he slipped his hand down his trousers, massaging his erection.

Sherlock tilted his head. 11 had to know this wouldn’t bring him to orgasm, so why bother? But as 11 massaged his own hard cock, his keens and whimpers became less frenzied, and his breathing more regular. Sherlock wrote this down too. Perhaps there was some mild relief to be found in one’s own touch?

It was seven in the evening now. Assuming that this pre-heat wave would pass around nine, and 11 would go to bed at midnight, the next wave should hit the Omega while asleep. Sherlock would wondered if the arousal would wake him up or simply give him sex dreams. He would have to observe.

11 was still massaging his own cock, hips thrusting up as if he was fucking his own hand. His shirt had bunched up under his arms, and his back was arched as he whimpered. 11’s eyes were shut tight, his mouth open as he was panting. It was, Sherlock had to admit, an attractive sight. He might have to have a wank of his own later.

“It won’t help, you know,” he told the Omega.

“What?” 11 asked, turning his head to look at Sherlock as he was still furiously stroking his cock inside his trousers.

“Masturbation,” Sherlock said, gesturing with his pen. “You won’t reach climax.” He smirked. “Not unless I help you.”

11’s eyes had turned darker, his pupils wide with lust. “You –” he managed, and for a moment Sherlock thought 11 would actually beg him for help. “No. No, stay away.”

“As you wish,” Sherlock murmured, smiling to himself. He didn’t mind that 11 was still being stubborn. It would make it all the more fun when he inevitably did beg for Sherlock’s cock.

The pre-heat wave lasted for another two hours, Sherlock carefully noting the time while 11, red-faced with embarrassment, returned to his bedroom.

“It’s a perfectly normal function of your body,” Sherlock told him through the door.

“Fuck off!”

Sherlock inhaled sharply, throwing the door open. “What did you say?” Such language couldn’t be tolerated, not even with a stressed Omega.

“I said, fuck off,” 11 told him, enunciating each consonant and standing up.

Sherlock glared down at him. “Punishment it is, then.” He unclipped the longer leash, and wound his fingers around 11’s collar, dragging him back into the bathroom. He ignored 11’s protestations, knowing that the Omega now found it more difficult to breathe.

He stopped by the counter, opening the drawer to take the two handcuffs he had used to cuff 11 to the shower curtain rails. “Hands up,” he ordered, pushing his knuckles against 11’s Adam’s apple.

11 tried to pull away, but eventually gave in, reaching for the curtain rail. Since he was standing outside the tub, he had to reach higher, barely able to reach the rail at all.

Sherlock released the Omega’s collar, and cuffed his wrists to the rail. “I hope you still remember how to sleep standing up,” he said sweetly.

“Fuck you!” 11 yelled, turning to kick him.

Sherlock slapped him. “Behave, 11!” He went into the living room to get something he hadn’t needed before. His horsewhip.

He kept it behind his back when he entered the bathroom, and first set about opening 11’s belt and pulling his trousers and underwear down.

“What are you gonna do?” 11 asked, turning his head to try and look over his shoulder. “You’re gonna fuck me? Is that the only way you get to fuck Omegas? Tying them first?”

“Shut up,” Sherlock told him. He was tempted to get the ball gag, but then he wouldn’t hear the noises of pain. He used the whip to give 11 a warning tap on the back of his thigh. “You’ll be in heat soon. We both know it. And then you’ll beg for my cock.”

“I’m not gonna beg you for – ow!”

He had hit 11 on his left cheek. “That is what happens to bad Omegas.” He hit his other cheek. “You need to learn to respect your Alpha.”

“You’re not my Alpha,” 11 grunted, then gasped when Sherlock whipped him again.

“Oh, but I will be,” Sherlock said, his voice dangerously soft. “I will knot you over and over during your heat, 11. You’ll want nothing else.”

11 cried out when Sherlock whipped him. “Never,” he gasped.

Sherlock shrugged. It was clearly futile to argue with the Omega right now. He poured his own frustration into the whipping, smiling as the pale skin of 11’s arse became red. And the Omega kept gasping and grunting in pain beautifully, twisting his body out of the way as much as possible. Sherlock was worried for one moment that he would pull the curtain rail down, but fortunately it was made of stronger stuff than 11.

Once 11’s cheeks were red, and red streaks were adorning the back of his thighs, Sherlock decided the Omega had had enough.

He gently ran one hand down 11’s cheeks, watching the Omega shiver. “Now remember that, and be a good little Omega in the future.”

He left the bathroom before 11 could muster a reply.


	3. Chapter 3

The next day, after 11’s third little wave of arousal had passed, his brother rang. Sherlock picked up, because for Mycroft to actually bother him, it had to be important. 11 was sulking in his bedroom, the door shut.

“What?”

“Good afternoon, dear brother, and how are you?” Mycroft replied.

Sherlock sighed. “Yes, yes, I’m fine. Why are you calling me?”

“That Lestrade of yours has contacted me about a case you’ve worked on for him. Illegal Omega auctions. Ring a bell?”

“Yes.” He was surprised that Lestrade had had the guts to go to Mycroft. He must be feeling very strongly about the welfare of the Omegas. “What did he have to say about it?”

“That you bought one as part of your undercover investigation, and that you’ve kept him. Honestly, Sherlock, if I had known you were interested in having an Omega of your own, I could’ve helped. I know several Omegas who would be happy to be yours for a while,” Mycroft said. “And better looking ones too.”

He bristled at that. “11 is attractive enough.” Sherlock liked that he actually had some muscle on him.

Mycroft laughed. “Oh dear, is someone growing attached?”

“Well, he is mine,” Sherlock replied casually. He wasn’t attached to 11, but he had to admit there were advantages to having an Omega around.

“Not if Lestrade has anything to do with it. He’s close to catching the people behind the auction.”

“Not Moriarty?” Sherlock sat up. Surely Lestrade hadn’t solved that little mystery?

“No,” Mycroft said. “No, Lestrade knows it’s just a couple of minions, but he wasn’t getting any closer to getting Moriarty and something is better than nothing, I suppose. Anyway, when the case is over, you won’t be able to use the excuse that you’re keeping the Omega around for further clues of the investigation.”

“Hmm.” Sherlock was staring at the door to 11’s bedroom. He didn’t want to give 11 up, but with the case closed Lestrade would go back to pestering him about it. The man had already gone to Mycroft, of all people.

“And need I remind you,” Mycroft continued, “that if word gets out that Sherlock Holmes is keeping an Omega in his home that he bought at an illegal auction, it won’t just be your reputation that’ll be tarnished? And word will get out, you know what the police can be like.”

Sherlock rolled his eyed. “Will Mummy and Daddy be upset?”

“I hardly think they’d approve.”

He drummed his fingers on his armrest. While this little cocoon of 221b was pleasant, he couldn’t keep himself and 11 cooped up in here forever. Lestrade, Mycroft, his parents…even Mrs. Hudson had been muttering about how it wasn’t healthy for a young man like 11 to be inside all day, even if he was an Omega. They would keep pestering him about it, and one of them might actually decide to take 11 from him. And Sherlock would have to let them, since legally he didn’t have a leg to stand. He smiled, getting an idea. “I agree that the story of me buying an Omega at an illegal auction and keeping him would be bad,” he said. “But what about the story of me buying an Omega from an illegal auction to save him from his vile captors and to help find the culprits, and the Omega being so moved and grateful that he falls for me?”

Mycroft remained silent for a while. “That would be a better story, yes.”

“How long did Lestrade say he would need to arrest Moriarty’s minions?”

“No more than four days at the most. But Sherlock, you can’t possibly make someone fall for you in only a few days. I know what you’re like with Omegas. Why would one that’s already been imprisoned suffer your treatment?”

It was a good question. “Because he’s about to go into heat,” Sherlock replied, still smiling. “And I intend to knot him as frequently as I can.”

“You can’t knot someone into falling for you, Sherlock. I know they’re more likely to develop affection for the Alpha who knots them during heat, but that’s comparable to a crush and it fades a few days after the heat passes.” Mycroft sighed. “And Lestrade, no matter what you might think, isn’t an idiot. He’ll realised you’ve knotted your Omega into liking you. He’ll give it a few days, then visit you again.”

Sherlock knew all that, but was counting on 11 having been on suppressors for so long that his irregular heat cycle made the hormones have a more powerful effect too. “We’ll see. Just let me try it my way first. I promise that after 11’s first heat passes and he doesn’t want to stay with me, you or Lestrade can take him from me.”

“Good,” Mycroft replied, although he sounded suspicious. “I’ll keep in touch. Goodbye, Sherlock.”

“Goodbye.” He hung up. Four days wasn’t much, but then the waves hitting 11 were a sure sign his real heat was only hours away. And when that happened, he would be begging for Sherlock’s cock, for his knot. He would beg to be filled.

The mere thought of 11 being reduced to desperation and begging made Sherlock hard, and he pressed the palm of his hand against his erection. Not too long now. Oh, how good it would feel to sink into that tight heat, to hear the whining and whimpering of an Omega needing to be knotted underneath him.

11 would be his by the end of it.

*

They ate dinner silently, Sherlock observing 11, while 11 tried to avoid his gaze. Mrs. Hudson had cooked wonderfully as always, but 11’s expression was grave. “Something wrong with the food?” Sherlock asked. Mrs. Hudson insisted on cooking the same meals for him and the Omega. Sherlock supposed that with his oncoming heat, the Omega would need his strength.

“No,” 11 replied, his eyes on the potatoes.

“Is your collar too tight, then? The leash getting in the way?” 11 had been quieter than usual since his last wave.

“No.”

“Then what is it?”

11 finally looked up to meet his eyes, then shook his head. “I'm not hungry. I'm going to bed.”

Sherlock noticed that his face was more flushed than usual, his fingers twitching as if needing to cling to something. “Yes, you'll need your rest for your upcoming heat.”

11 spun to face him and snarled. “I am not about to go into heat!”

“I don't know why you are being so stubborn about it,” Sherlock told him. “It is a perfectly normal bodily function. Tell me, is your hole getting slicked up already?”

11's mouth opened, and his arm moved as if he was about to check, then he glared at Sherlock. “That is none of your business.”

“It will be soon enough,” Sherlock murmured, and continued with his dinner. He smiled as 11 went into his little bedroom and closed the door. Omegas often got irritable when their heats were upon them.

After dinner, Mrs. Hudson picked up the dirty dishes, tutting when she noticed the Omega had barely touched his food. “You should keep some, in case he gets peckish tonight.”

“That won't be necessary,” Sherlock assured her, then waited patiently for 11 to come out of his room. In the silence of their apartment, he could hear the Omega move in his bedroom, the way he was pacing up and down, how occasionally the doorknob moved as if the other man was about to open the door.

The scent was subtle at first, but unmistakeable. Sherlock's mouth watered at the oaky, musky scent of 11's heat. His cock hardened, and he gripped the arms of his chair. Not long now. He was staring at the door, gasping when the doorknob moved again, and he grinned when 11 finally slammed the door open.

“Took you long enough,” Sherlock told him, his voice low.

11 moved forward, his hard cock already tenting in his trousers. “Please,” he panted, dropping to his knees in front of Sherlock’s chair. His face was flushed, his pupils so blown there was hardly any blue left. The short strands of hair were stuck to his forehead.

“Please, what?” Sherlock asked, smiling. This close, 11's scent was intoxicating, but he held himself back from taking the other man. The Omega had to beg first.

“I want – need – you,” 11 managed, leaning forward to put his hands on Sherlock’s knees. “Please, fuck me, I need your knot.”

Finally. “Are you sure you want it?”

11 nodded. “Yes! Please!”

“I will give you what you need,” Sherlock said, reaching out and stroking 11’s cheek, “if you do something for me.” He smiled as 11 leaned into his touch, rubbing his cheek against the palm of Sherlock’s hand.

“Anything,” 11 replied.

“Suck me off first.” Sherlock sat back as 11’s impatient fingers fumbled with his belt and buttons, then grunted as 11 pulled his trousers and underwear down roughly. “We’ll need to work on your manners.” His own cock was half-hard, and he gestured for 11 to begin. “Go on, let me see you deserve to be knotted.”

11 didn’t need to be told twice. He spat in the palm of hand and wrapped it around Sherlock’s cock. His touch was hot, but pleasantly so, and Sherlock groaned happily as 11 started to jerk him to full hardness.

“Well done, John.”

11’s eyes snapped up to meet his, and his hand froze. “You used my name.”

Sherlock smiled. “Of course. You are finally acting like a proper Omega should, and I am not unreasonable. I didn’t want to encourage your stubborn, sullen behaviour.”

The Omega stared at him, and for a moment Sherlock was worried he would get up and leave again, but instead his hand went back to moving up and down.

“As pleasant as this is,” he murmured, sagging in the chair and spreading his thighs. “I asked you to suck me off.”

11 licked his lips, and nodded. “Yes.” He opened his mouth and leaned forward, wrapping his lips around Sherlock's cock and letting it slide deeper.

Sherlock groaned with satisfaction. “Yes, well done, John, just like that.” It had been so long since he had been sucked off, and while he could tell 11 was inexperienced, it was pleasant enough. He ran his hand through 11's short hair, stroking him and enjoying the way that made the Omega moan around his cock. “Go on, deeper than that.”

11 took him deeper, gagging on it when Sherlock thrust up.

“Ah, no,” Sherlock told him, pushing his head down when he felt 11 try to move back up. “You have to learn to take this. Come on, you know you can be good.”

11 gagged again, managing to make panicked noises, and Sherlock let him move up about an inch.

“Try again,” Sherlock told him, stroking the back of his head. “Only good Omegas get knotted.”

That made 11 whimper, glancing up at Sherlock pleadingly.

“You look very good with my cock in your mouth,” Sherlock told him, smiling down at him. “Take it deeper.”

The Omega lowered his head further, and Sherlock felt his cock slide down his throat.

“Yes, John, I knew you could do it.” Sherlock kept stroking his hair while the Omega was trying to breathe through his nose. “Mm, very good.”

Sherlock let him bob his head up and down, but did exert some pressure to push 11's head further each time. He wouldn't be satisfied until the Omega had swallowed his entire cock. 11 objected every now and then, his grip on Sherlock's thighs tightening when it was too much. It was a difficult balance, letting 11 come up so he could get his breathing under control every now and then, but not so often that he could count on it. The Omega had to learn, after all.

He began to thrust up into 11's mouth, close to coming now. Another time, he would've tried to prolong his own pleasure, but now the only thing he wanted was to knot the Omega at last. He didn't warn 11, simply thrust up and kept the Omega's head down as he came.

11 gagged again, his eyes wide as he struggled to swallow Sherlock's come. He was breathing hard when Sherlock released him, wiping some white remains off his face.

Sherlock expected him to swear or shout, but instead the Omega just eyed him pleadingly. “Well,” Sherlock said, “that could've been worse, I suppose.”

11 whimpered, still on his knees. “I'll do better, please, just fuck me.”

Sherlock stood up. “I will. Take off your clothes first.” He removed his own as well, setting them aside carefully, and was unbuttoning his shirt when 11 was fully naked. “Someone's eager,” he said, smirking.

The Omega was still on his knees, and pressed his head against Sherlock's bare leg. “Please,” he muttered, kissing Sherlock's thigh. “Please, I need you fill me.” He shuddered, his cock leaking pre-come on the rug.

Sherlock idly wondered if Mrs. Hudson would be able to clean it, or if it would have to be taken to the drycleaners around the corner. Either way, it would get messier before the night was over. “Hands and knees, facing the other way. Now, John.”

The Omega obeyed, his pale ass facing Sherlock. “Please!” he whimpered.

Sherlock folded his shirt over the chair, and knelt down behind 11. “Oh yes, you're definitely slick for me, aren't you?” He spread 11's cheeks, all the better to see the glistening of the Omega's fluid.

11 pushed back, leaning on his elbows and arching his back. Sherlock could see his balls dangling between his thighs, and his cock, hard and red. It was a wonderful display. “I need your knot, please, just take me!”

Sherlock's own cock was already hard, and he ran it up and down the crease of 11's arse, getting it nicely slicked up.

The Omega shuddered underneath him, letting out a soft, needy whine.

“Ssh, John, I'll take good care of you,” he said, running soothing circles across the Omega's back. “I'm gonna knot you as much as you like, don't you worry.”

“Please,” 11 managed, rocking his hips. “Please, I need you.”

He wrapped his hand around his cock to guide it, and pushed it into 11's slick hole without any further preparation. 11 had been so desperate that he hadn't needed any.

The Omega moaned underneath him. “Yes, please, thank you, more!” He was gasping for air, whimpering as Sherlock continued to fill him.

Once Sherlock was fully inside of him, he could feel his knot start to swell up in response to the Omega's heat. “You're so wonderfully tight, John,” he muttered, stroking 11's back.

11 was moaning and whimpering in obvious pleasure. “So good,” he muttered. “So full, yes.”

Sherlock smiled, and once his knot had swollen up completely, he began to thrust. His knot only gave him a few inches, but that was enough. He pulled back as far as he could, watching the way his knot stretched open 11's hole, but never far enough to slip out. His knot was too big for that, and 11 whimpered in pain when Sherlock pulled back too far.

It made his cries of pleasure when Sherlock thrust in all the sweeter.

His hands gripped 11's hips tight, pulling him back as he thrust in, wanting to push in as deep as he could, wanting to fill 11 like he had never been filled before.

Soon, the Omega was coming, streaks of white landing on the rug as 11 bucked underneath him. Sherlock kept fucking him, loving the way 11 whimpered and mewled for more.

“Take me, take me,” 11 managed, his arms having given out. His back was fully arched, his face resting on the rug, his head turned to the left. His hands were scrambling for purchase on the rug, pulling and gripping it tight. “Yes, yes, harder!”

Sherlock came too, filling the Omega with his come. His knot remained swollen and his cock hard as the orgasm faded. He growled, moving forward to plant his hands on the floor, leaning over 11. “Such a good Omega,” he murmured, nipping at 11's ear. “How did you manage so long without being knotted?”

11 whined, his eyes shut tight. “Please, fuck me,” was all he managed to reply.

Of course, Sherlock should've known better than to expect an intelligent reply. He was finding it difficult to think clearly, the only thing on his mind the tight heat around his cock and the incredible way the Omega smelled, urging him to fuck 11 harder, deeper, faster, until the Omega was his.

By the time his knot shrank, Sherlock had come four times. He hadn't kept track of 11's orgasms, but judging by the streaks of white on the rug, it had been plenty.

11 groaned as Sherlock slid out of him, and rolled onto his side on the rug. “Mmm,” he said, closing his eyes, still panting.

Sherlock was tempted to join him, but knew the Omega's urge to be fucked would return soon enough. And he wanted to do that somewhere more comfortable than the living room rug. “Get up,” he said, standing up himself and prodding 11 with his foot.

11 grumbled, but pushed himself to his knees, and finally to his feet. He blinked up at Sherlock. “What?”

“Your bedroom. Now, John.”

11 nodded, and moved to his bedroom. Sherlock was pleased to notice his legs were unsteady, and that some come was dribbling out of his hole and down his thighs.

*

Sherlock lost count of how many times he knotted 11 that first night, but by the time the sun rose, he felt exhausted. It had been some time since he had taken an Omega who was in heat, but 11 was far needier, far more desperate than normal. A side-effect from having been on suppressors for so long, no doubt.

11 looked tired as well, even as he climbed on top of Sherlock, straddling him. “Please,” he said, rubbing his cheeks across Sherlock's groin. “Need you. Now. So empty...”

Sherlock grunted as he lifted the Omega up, his own cock hard as well. “Now move down, John.”

The Omega let out a pleased sigh as he sank down on Sherlock's cock, shuddering with delight as the knot filled him. “Mmm, yes.”

Sherlock rocked his hips, needing the Omega to move. “Go on.”

11, his hands resting on Sherlock's chest, began to move slowly, but soon his tempo sped up, and he rode Sherlock as hard as he could, slamming down on him and moaning with every thrust. He wasn't as loud as before, and he sounded hoarse.

Sherlock watched him, thinking to himself that he could get used to this, to having 11 ride him eagerly, milking his cock for more come. Omegas really were insatiable, their stamina impressive.

The downside of their position was that when 11 came, he came all over Sherlock's chest, and Sherlock huffed in displeasure. When his knot shrank at last and 11 slid off him, he told him to lick him clean.

“What?” 11 asked, frowning.

“You spilled your seed all over me, now clean it up. With your tongue,” Sherlock told him. 11 eyed him, and Sherlock could see some of the defiance return. “Now, John!”

11 blinked, and lowered his head to begin licking Sherlock's chest.

Sherlock sighed. An Alpha's natural dominance over an Omega was even more pronounced during heat, especially after being knotted. Sherlock did hope that, once the heat had passed, some of 11's defiance would return. Not in front of Lestrade, of course, and not too frequently, but often enough to keep things interesting between heats.

*

Sherlock had to admit that he lost track of time afterwards. The only reliable measure he had were the regular meals Mrs. Hudson left on their doorstep, with a cheery note that it sounded like they could do with a good meal.

But the Omega was, well, captivating. Sherlock had been around Omegas in heat before, and knew what it was like to feel the need to fuck, and own, and claim, but being around one in an apartment was more overwhelming than he had imagined. Having 11's scent around him, as well as the smell of their previous couplings, was enough to give him an almost permanent erection.

11 was as insatiable as Sherlock, his hole constantly dripping with either Sherlock's come or his own slick fluids, leaving his inner thighs glistening.

Sherlock had expected to get bored at some point with the constant, frenzied fucking of the same person, but he wasn't. He liked finding new positions to fuck 11 in, new parts of him to touch, all the different ways he could make the Omega beg and plead and whimper for more.

And beg he did, even while Sherlock was fucking him, his knot swollen inside of him. 11 was lying on his back on the coffee table, the wooden surface slick with his sweat, the Omega's eyes were half-closed and he was moaning with every thrust. “Please, deeper! More!”

Sherlock growled, digging his nails into 11's hips. He was already buried as deep inside of the other man as he could go. “Perhaps I should find another Alpha to fuck you,” he snarled. “A second cock to fill you.”

11 gasped at that, writhing on the table, sounding like he very much approved of that.

An intense, burning jealousy filled him, and he felt his nails break the Omega's skin. “Oh, you would like that, wouldn't you? But you're mine.” He wouldn't let anyone else touch 11, not even another Omega. “Aren't you? Tell me you're mine.”

“Yes!” the Omega cried out. “Oh yes, yes, please, I'm yours!”

Sherlock grinned, barely even noticing the blood tricking between his fingertips. “What a good little Omega you are, John,” he purred, licking the sweat from 11's heaving chest.

The Omega whimpered underneath him, then came, hot streaks of come landing on Sherlock's skin as well. No matter, he would have 11 lick it off him later. It was almost a shame that he couldn't cover 11's pretty skin with his own come, to make him as his, but filling him from the inside would have to do.

His knot shrank, and he slipped out of 11 easily. Only then did he hear the thumping on the door. “Mrs. Hudson,” he shouted. “Not now!”

“It's not Mrs. Hudson, it's me!”

Lestrade. Sherlock glanced at 11. “Go into your room, find something to wear that isn't covered in your come.”

The Omega groaned, heaving himself off the table and throwing a glare at the door. “Why now?” he grumbled, but did as he was told.

Sherlock was distracted for a moment by watching his own come seep out of 11's hole, but then Lestrade started knocking on the door again. With a sigh, he grabbed some trousers from the floor and slipped them on before opening the door. “In case you haven't noticed,” he replied, smiling smugly, “I've been very busy.”

Lestrade glared at him. “Yes, I can smell that. I have been trying to call you all day, Sherlock!”

“Like I said, very busy. What is it? Unless it's a particularly interesting case, I'm afraid it'll have to wait until his heat is over,” Sherlock said, gesturing at the living room. 11 still hadn't emerged.

“Of the Omega you bought at the auction?” Lestrade raised an eyebrow. “Good news. We've arrested the men who were running that.”

Sherlock remembered what Mycroft had said. “Yes, you've caught some of Moriarty's minions. Congratulations. What does that have to do with me?”

He smelled rather than heard 11 walk up behind him. “What is it?” the Omega asked, sounding terse.

Lestrade smiled now. “I thought you might want to know that the men who sold you to Sherlock here have been arrested. Your testimony won't be necessary to put them behind bars, we have plenty of witnesses and other Omegas who are willing testify, but you are welcome to, of course.”

Sherlock's smile widened when he felt 11 press up against his side, wriggling until Sherlock's arm was around him. “I think, ah, John here has other things on his mind.” He had almost referred to the Omega as 11, but that wouldn't do if he wanted to convince Lestrade he was keeping 11 because they both wanted it.

“Afterwards, then,” Lestrade told him, his eyes turning hard.

Sherlock nodded, shivering when 11 slipped his hand inside Sherlock's trousers. “I'll remind him.”

11 huffed against his neck impatiently. “Fuck me, now.”

“They get so rude when they're in heat, don't they?” Sherlock said, still smiling at Lestrade. “I think it's best you leave, it'll be a while before we're willing and even able to talk to you again.” Without waiting for Lestrade to say anything, he closed the door.

11 growled against Sherlock's neck, his hands clawing at the trouser buttons to get them off. “Your cock, now!”

“Ah, ask nicely, John!” Sherlock told him, even though his cock was hardening and he couldn't wait to get inside the Omega.

11 whimpered. “Your cock, please?”

“Well done.” 11 sank down to his knees to pull the trousers down further, then turned so his ass was facing Sherlock while he leaned on his elbows. “Yes, John, just like that.” He was sure that Lestrade was still outside, or at least in the hallway, so his first thrust was extra hard so 11 moaned a little louder than usual.

*

Rather annoyingly, Lestrade kept dropping by every couple of days. He did it under the guise of keeping Sherlock updated on the recent case, but they both knew he could've done that via phone or email.

For the first week, 11 was still in heat and Sherlock knew it wouldn't matter, that 11 would want to stay with the Alpha who had been knotting him so frequently.

But 11's ass became drier, and Sherlock knew the heat would soon pass. He wondered how 11 would behave. Most Omegas were a little embarrassed after their heats, as if the perfectly natural urge to be fucked and filled over and over and over again was something to be ashamed of.

11, however, was not like most Omegas.

Sherlock woke up on morning to find 11 crawl into bed with him. “What are you doing?” he grumbled. “I thought your heat passed?”

“It did. I'm not here for a fuck,” 11 muttered, stretching out alongside Sherlock and pressing himself closer before pulling up the blankets. “I just – your bed is more comfortable than mine.”

“Really?” Sherlock said, wrapping an arm around 11. He smiled at the content sigh from the Omega. Something was going on, some sort of post-heat high, perhaps. Wonderful. He was curious to see how long it lasted.

But it wasn't just that 11 wanted to share Sherlock's bed. He kept close to Sherlock outside of the bedroom too, settling down by his feet when Sherlock was sitting in a chair, or hovering nearby when Sherlock was working on one of his experiments in the kitchen.

Things came to a head when Sherlock had to go out to meet Mycroft for lunch.

“How long will you be gone for?” 11 demanded, wrapping his arms around himself.

“Oh, no more than two hours, I should think,” Sherlock replied, shrugging.

11 stared at him. “That long?”

Sherlock snorted. “I thought you preferred being alone, 11.”

“I did. I do.” 11 turned around. “I'm just...I want to go outside as well. It's been so long.”

“Hmm. Maybe next time.” Sherlock felt slightly uneasy as he walked to the door. He would have to leave 11 all alone. What if Lestrade came for a visit and 11 let him in? What if Lestrade did that annoying reassuring thing he often did with victims or witnesses, where he talked to them reassuringly and put an arm around them. The thought of Lestrade coming in here and touching 11 made Sherlock's blood boil. He turned to 11. “Do not let anyone in here while I'm gone,” he snapped.

11 frowned. “What if Mrs. Hudson needs to –”

“Not even her,” he insisted. “No one. No one comes in here until I come back. Understood?”

“Sure,” 11 replied, shaking his head and muttering something under his breath.

Sherlock huffed, and left. All the while as he kept walking away from 221b, something inside of him urged him to go back. The uneasy feeling stayed with him during lunch, and Mycroft couldn't help but comment on it.

“What's bothering you?”

“Nothing,” he snapped, looking away from the clock on the wall. What was taking the waitress so long?

Mycroft leaned closer, and sniffed once. “Ah,” he said, then sat back. “That explains everything.”

“What?”

“Your scent,” Mycroft replied, gesturing at him. “You smell of Omega. I'm guessing yours has gone into heat. And since you clearly can't wait to get home, I assume he's still in it.”

“No, no, the heat has passed,” Sherlock replied, annoyed that Mycroft had been able to tell at all.

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Really? Then why the urge to go back?”

Sherlock remained silent. “I'm feeling no such urge.” What if 11 decided to ignore Sherlock's request and let Lestrade in anyway?

“Of course,” Mycroft told him, smirking. “You know, knotting affects the Alpha as well, afterwards.”

Sherlock knew that, but had never experienced it this strongly. Usually, knotting an Omega in heat didn't leave him feeling annoyed to be away from them. It was something he would have to look into once he got home. “It has nothing to do with. It's – it's Lestrade. Like you said, he keeps pestering us.”

“It really would be easiest if you simply let him go,” Mycroft told him.

Never. “That's not going to happen.” He wouldn't give Lestrade the satisfaction, nor did he want to give up 11. “Ever.”

Mycroft sighed. “I really shouldn't be surprised by that.”

*

He didn't feel calm until he was back home, and until he had assured himself that there hadn't been anyone else in their apartment. 11 told him no one had even tried to visit, but Sherlock wasn't content until he had sniffed every corner.

“What is going on with you?” 11 asked, frowning.

“Nothing,” Sherlock replied. He had to admit to himself that this level of paranoia was getting unhealthy. He would have to do some research on Alphas, Omegas, heats and the after-effects.

That evening, while he was glued to the computer, 11 sat close, watching television. It was some annoying gameshow, but he didn't tell 11 to turn it off. It became background noise, and from the corner of his eye he could keep an eye on his Omega as he researched.

A lot of what he found, he already knew. Omegas were clingier and more subdued in the first few days after a fulfilling heat. Alphas did get protective of Omegas they had knotted frequently, but not as strongly as Sherlock was feeling. And 11 seemed like a different person, he hadn't insulted Sherlock once or disobeyed an order. He had even been cooperative when Sherlock washed him last night.

There was speculation on the effects of suppressors, with some scientists arguing that long-term effect of suppressors would diminish the strength of the heat once Omegas were off them, and that the usual post-heat hormone-induced clinginess would be barely noticeable. Others, and Sherlock was inclined to agree with them based on what he had seen from 11, claimed that the first heat after being off suppressors would be particularly strong, and that Omegas who had been on suppressors for a long time would be very reluctant to be away from their Alphas. They advised caution to any Omega who wanted to stop taking oppressors and to let their first heat go by without getting knotted to avoid becoming attached to an unsuitable Alpha.

There was very little information on what effect knotting an Omega who had been on suppressors would have on the Alpha. Hardly any scientist had done studies on that, all preferring to focus on the Omega's side of things.

But Sherlock could extrapolate, and if the effects of having been in heat and knotted were strong in 11, then they would also be strong in him.

According to some researchers, the strength of the post-heat hormones could create a bond very similar to the mating bond between Alphas and Omegas.

Before, the thought of being mated disgusted Sherlock. To bind yourself to one Omega for years, perhaps your entire life...who could live like that? So predictable. So boring.

And yet, the thought of sending 11 away disgusted him more. Some other Alpha would touch him, would fuck him, would make him moan and beg. He didn't want anyone else touching 11. And he certainly didn't want Lestrade taking 11 away. There was nothing else for it.

He turned the chair to face 11. “We should be mated. Properly.”

11 opened his mouth, then closed it, then turned off the television. “Why?”

“Because I don't want any other Alpha fucking you.”

11's cheeks flushed pink. “Well, ah, what if I want other Alphas fucking me?”

He got up, anger welling up inside like a tidal wave. “Who? Who tried to fuck you?”

“No one!” 11 stood up as well, glaring up at Sherlock. “Yet. But I might want them to in the future.”

Sherlock clenched his fists. “I bet you've got someone in mind already, don't you? For your next heat?”

“What if I did?” 11 asked, eyes boring into Sherlock's. “An Alpha with a bigger knot? Who could satisfy me better?”

He snarled, pushing 11 down on the sofa and crawling on top of him. “Who?” he demanded, grabbing 11's wrists and pressing them down against the armrest.

Even with his arms pinned above his head, 11 continued to struggle. “I haven't met any because you won't let me out!”

“And I have no intention of letting you out,” Sherlock assured him, straddling 11. He had to admit, the feeling of 11's body writhing underneath him was a wonderful one.

“You can't keep me locked in here forever,” 11 insisted, and bucked up again. His groin brushed against Sherlock's.

Sherlock groaned, noticing the hardness in 11's trousers, and grinned down at the Omega. “You're enjoying this,” he purred.

11 was panting now, and still trying to move his arms. “What? Being imprisoned by a lunatic like you? No.”

“You like struggling against me,” Sherlock murmured, lowering his head until it was only a few inches away from 11's. “You like being held down firmly.”

11 snarled, but his eyes were wide, darting to the side. “I don't.”

He pressed his hips down against 11's groin, and heard the other man groan softly. “And yet you're hard for me, John.”

That got 11's attention. “Oh, so now you'll use my name?”

“You're not denying that you're hard, that you like this,” Sherlock replied instead.

11 glanced down, whimpering softly when Sherlock rolled his hips to rub his hardening cock against 11's. “If we mate,” he said, licking his lips, “I won't suddenly start obeying you. Or listening to you.”

Sherlock smirked. “That would be boring.”

11 finally met his eyes again. “I thought you wanted a perfectly submissive, obedient Omega. You keep punishing me when I push back.”

“Of course,” Sherlock replied, nodding. “I can't let you get away with not listening. But I do enjoy punishing you, and an Omega who did everything I told them to would be terribly dull.”

“So what you're saying is that you want to mate _because_ I'm disobedient?” 11 laughed a little. “You're a very strange Alpha.”

“You're a very strange Omega,” Sherlock countered, lowering his head further to graze his teeth across 11's neck. “Well?”

“Well, what?” 11 asked, tipping his head back to give Sherlock more space.

“Do you agree that we should be mated?” he asked.

“Does it mean I can leave the apartment?”

Sherlock sighed. “Yes. For short periods and only if I'm with you at first, of course. If that goes well, we can work up to more.”

“Then yes, I agree,” 11 told him.

“Good.” Sherlock let out a low growl, then licked 11's neck, wanting to find the best place for the mating mark. It had to be a sensitive spot for 11, but also a visible one so other Alphas would know not to touch him.

11 squirmed underneath him as Sherlock pushed his arms to the side to nuzzle his neck. “What's keeping you from biting?”

“It has to be the right spot,” Sherlock murmured, then licked him again. Yes, there, he had found the spot. Above the spot where his neck met his shoulder, close to the carotid artery but far enough for it to be safe. He sank his teeth into 11's skin, tasting blood and sweat before pulling back and licking the wound.

“Please, hurry,” 11 replied, now squirming underneath him for other reasons.

Biting was only the first step in mating, and it wouldn't be complete until he had fucked 11 and come inside of him. Sherlock had never undressed that quickly in his life, and he was fairly certain 11 hadn't either.

11 ended up lying on his stomach, glancing at Sherlock over his shoulder. His hole was dry now, but spit would do instead of lube, and 11 was definitely eager to be fucked.

Sherlock slid in with some difficult, but it still felt good and the urge to fuck was too strong. He leaned over his Omega, nuzzling the place he had bitten him again. “I'm gonna fill you again.”

“Do it,” 11 panted, and moaned when Sherlock started thrusting hard.

Neither of them were gonna last long, but Sherlock was determined to make 11 come first, even shifting to lean on one hand so he could use the other to work 11's hard cock.

11 whimpered underneath him, eyes screwed tight, his hips rocking back and forth. “Yes, fuck, yes, please!”

A few thrusts later, and 11 was coming, bucking wildly while Sherlock couldn't resist the temptation to bite him again, in the same spot he had bitten him before. And that pushed him over the edge, coming as well, and he felt _something_ shift inside of his brain, like it always did when he had figured out the last piece of the puzzle for a case, that first glorious moment where everything lined up and made sense.

The feeling didn't last nearly long enough, and when it passed, Sherlock pulled out of 11 and sat back.

11 rolled onto his side and squinted up at Sherlock. The wounds on his neck had healed, leaving two pale marks. “Do you feel different?”

“Not really,” Sherlock admitted. Apart from that brief moment when he had come, he felt the same as always.

“Neither do I,” 11 replied. “I felt...something when you came, though.”

Sherlock nodded. “That was most likely the mating bond." He always thought being mated would feel different, but then again, he had never been mated before. "And if it didn't work, I'll just have to do it again”

11 snorted. “Not without using more lube, you're not.”

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. “I will fuck you however I see fit.”

11 looked up at him, smiling a little. “You mean you'll _try._ ”

Sherlock lunged to grab his arms, but 11 had already rolled off the sofa. “Get back here so I can claim you again.”

11 shook his head, and got up instead. “No, I think I'll have a shower to wash your stench off me.”

He knew exactly what 11 was doing, taunting him like this, but Sherlock couldn't help rising to the bait. “Then I'll just have to cover you in it again.” He stood up, following 11 into the bathroom, cock already hardening at the thought of pressing him against the tiles and taking him again.

Being mated was definitely not boring.

And if it ever became boring, well, there were ways to break the mating bond.


End file.
